One more love song. I generally like to include at least one or two love songs in the evening's program, partly perhaps to convince people that even at the harvard university graduate school, thTbed of celibacy that I used to call home, we did have our moments. this one is a tender ballad entitled simply I hold your hand in mine.I hold your hand in mine, dear,I press it to my lips.I take a healthy biteFrom your dainty fingertips.My joy would be complete, dear,If you were only here,But still I keep your handAs a precious souvenir.The night you died I cut it off.I really don't know why.For now each time I kiss itI get bloodstains on my tie.I'm sorry now I killed you,For our love was something fine,And till they come to get meI shall hold your hand in mine.